


Mask

by MayhemHeart



Series: The Spy Who Vexed Me [3]
Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: 007 Mycroft, Alternate Universe - Spies & Secret Agents, Banter, Freeform, Gratuitous use of italics, Handler Anthea, I accidentally added angst, M/M, Mystrade Monday, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Pining, Rookie Lestrade, Younger Lestrade, just boys being stupid, mystrade, so much pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-19
Updated: 2020-10-19
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:07:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,919
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27097063
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MayhemHeart/pseuds/MayhemHeart
Summary: Mystrade Monday Prompt #12“Can I kiss you?”
Relationships: Mycroft Holmes/Greg Lestrade
Series: The Spy Who Vexed Me [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1971670
Comments: 16
Kudos: 104





	Mask

**Author's Note:**

> This ended up being more than 1000 words. “Oh, it won’t be that much over,” I said - then I went and added more to the beginning, basically doubling it. 😐
> 
> Continuation to my Spies AU series (BECAUSE I CAN'T STOP - I'M SORRY), but this can be read as a stand-alone. 😊
> 
> All mistakes are mine.

For the longest time, Greg had thought Agent Holmes didn’t exist, that he was a fictional character made up just to rally the troops. Indeed, no one could be _that_ perfect. All through his training, Greg and the other trainees had been compared to the famous Agent Holmes.

“Come on, you sorry lot! Holmes could have dismantled this bomb in 90 seconds, and here we are 10 min later.”

And - 

“Faster men! Bloody concentrate, will you? Holmes can incapacitate his opponent in 3 moves.”

Or - 

“Holmes knows over 12 languages, and you can't even cope with Russian.”

And Greg’s favorite - 

“Great job, but Holmes did it better.”

Greg had _hated_ it. Hated that everyone had the experienced agent up on this glorified pedestal. Even before he realized that Holmes was real, he found himself in an internal battle to be better. He resolved to rise and become the household name in their ranks. Lestrade was going to make everyone forget about _Holmes._

He graduated at the top and started low-level missions. Sure he bent the rules and ignored parameters when needed, but he always succeeded in the end. There was no training for intuition and gut feelings, and Greg listened to the tiny voice that always said, “What if -.” Greg credited his instincts as to what led the higher-ups to start _talking_ about _him._ Talks of how the new agent was a quick learner, adaptive, skilled, and brilliant. He had felt ridiculously proud of himself and begrudgingly gave Holmes a small nod for the inspiration, even though they had never met. 

When the whispers started about possibly working with Holmes and becoming his protege, he was thrilled. If he wanted to be the best, he had to learn from the best, right? 

And then he _met_ Mycroft Holmes, and to be honest, he was a bit of a dick. No, scratch that, the man was a colossal prat, and Greg… Greg had fallen a little bit in love, to be honest. He always had a thing for the posh ones. 

***

On their first meeting before their mission, Greg had been apprehensive, and his stomach churned with anxiety while he tried his best not to let it show. His mind gave a low wolf whistle when he saw the handsome Agent's long, lean form; his profile strong and rigid as he stood next to Greg's new handler. Greg had put on his most gracious smile and held out his hand.

“Good evening, Agent Holmes, I’m Agent Lestrade. I look forward to working with you, sir.”

The other man didn’t smile, didn’t take his hand, and didn’t indicate that he even heard Greg except for his dark, piercing eyes that raked over Greg's body like hot coals and then flicked away dismissively. 

For a few awkward moments, Greg didn’t know how to react. Before he could pull his hand back, their handler, Anthea, let out a small sigh and gave Mycroft’s chest a light slap with the back of her hand, “honestly, Mycroft.”

Mycroft had exhaled deeply, rolled his eyes like a petulant child, and reached out to shake Greg’s hand. His palm was soft against Greg’s callused skin. It was quick and fleeting as if Mycroft couldn’t bear the thought of touching him. “Nice to meet your acquaintance, Agent. Unfortunately, I’m not looking forward to being a glorified babysitter.” His voice was smooth like polished river pebbles, but his words trickled down the back of Greg’s neck like ice water. 

“Mycroft,” Anthea hissed, and Mycroft looked at her, bored. 

“I work better alone. I don’t understand why Alicia saw fit to saddle me with some junior agent.” 

“You know why and even you were impressed with his credentials.”

“Hardly-”

“I _am_ still in the room.” Greg sneered. The fucking the nerve of this man. 

Mycroft looked back at Greg and raised one of his elegant eyebrows, “and?”

“God, you’re a right prick, ain’tcha?”

Greg saw a flash of heat before it was gone, and the air of isolation snapped back in place. Greg grinned; well, if this is how it was going to be, he might as well have fun with it. 

“Looks like we are stuck together for this mission, at least, so try not to slow me down, old man.”

Mycroft’s voice was sharp, eyes narrowed and hard, “I _beg_ your pardon?”

Oh, Greg was going to enjoy this. “You’re the one who called yourself my _babysitter_ , so if the well-polished shoe fits.”

“If you think-”

Anthea cut Mycroft off, “Gentleman, please. For my sake, let’s at least pretend to get along. Otherwise, this mission is going to be more complicated than it should be. You are both professionals.”

Greg relished in the forced, tight-lipped smile on Mycroft’s face and the muscle that flicked angrily at his jaw. Greg just grinned wider and winked. 

***

They worked well together, suspiciously well, despite being complete opposites. They kept getting paired together for missions, and their love-hate relationship began. For Greg, it was a little more love than hate. For Mycroft? The man was entirely by the book, and to be honest, Greg wasn’t even sure the man knew how to feel. Early on, he learned why Mycroft was called the Ice Man, but he eventually saw through the moniker. Greg always thought that Agent Holmes would have no faults or cracks. He quickly found out that while, yes, Agent Holmes was the perfect agent, Mycroft Holmes was not. 

The man has many flaws, and Greg loved them all. He was quick to anger even if he restrained it. Greg always knew even if it was from the pursed lips or the tilt of his head. He was slightly vain, but Greg could hardly begrudge him for it; he was gorgeous. He had a secret sweet tooth, and Greg loved to tempt him by eating in front of him any chance he could find, especially when it would draw Mycroft’s beautiful eyes to his lips. Greg loved pushing and teasing him. He wanted to ruffle the man and throw him off balance, bring him to his knees. Greg loved how his name sounded when Mycroft huffed at him in irritation. 

“Honestly, Lestrade, show some restraint.” 

***

Finally, during one mission, they had kissed, and while he had initiated it to throw off the goons chasing them, Mycroft had continued it. They snogged like teenagers for what seemed like hours before Anthea’s soft cough and teasing voice came through their comms, “you two realize you are on CCTV, right?” 

Mycroft had pulled away so fast Greg thought the taller man would break his neck. Mycroft’s face was crimsoned, his dark auburn hair in disarray from Greg’s fingers, lips red and swollen. He was so bloody gorgeous it made Greg’s heart seize painfully. Then he had seen the fear and skepticism in those wild dark eyes, and his stomach dropped, and Greg just _knew._

He knew that Mycroft only dealt in absolutes, and _feelings_ were messy and unpredictable. One of Mycroft’s flaws was that when he was startled, he either attacked or withdrew. Fight or Flight. Usually, he lashed out, tongue sharp with biting words such as- 

“I didn’t expect you to be so imprudent, Lestrade.” 

Or - 

“Lestrade, would it harm your ego to stop and think for once?” 

When there was no sharp remark, Greg had resigned himself to the fact that Mycroft would pull away. By the time they got back to HQ, Mycroft had retreated into his dismissive, cold shell. They never talked about it again. And the memory of that kiss, of Mycroft’s lips, pressed desperately against his own haunted him. 

***

And now, months later, he’s sitting in a hospital bed with very cross Mycroft Holmes at his side, fuming over his refusal to take his medication. He wishes he doesn’t remember the embarrassing last 24 hours; their mission, the fighting, escaping with Mycroft, and then deliriously asking the man if he thought Greg was _pretty_ and calling Mycroft _gorgeous._ Bloody hell, he even said he _loved him._ Right now, he’s doing his best to pretend he doesn’t remember what he said.

Greg looks at Mycroft, the other man is impeccable except for a bruise along his jaw, and Greg has the urge to kiss it. 

“You are still in pain, Lestrade,” Mycroft points out, and Greg winces. 

“Yeah, but the pills make me fuzzy,” Greg pouts. He’s over the static in his head from all the drugs. He can live with the pain. He nods at the pills in the small paper cup Mycroft is holding and lies, “it’s not going to help me remember the past 24 hours.”

Greg delights when the tips of Mycroft’s ears go pink, and Mycroft clears his throat, “It’s probably for the best right now. You need to rest.”

Greg bites the inside of his cheek before saying, “you’re not my mum.” He moves his hand up to the wound on his head, but Mycroft reaches out; his fingers are cool and smooth against his wrist. The touch is electrifying. 

“Stop irritating your stitches,” Mycroft says sternly, but his voice is soft. 

“They itch,” Greg whines. 

Mycroft leans forward and cups Greg’s chin gently, tilting Greg’s face towards him so Mycroft can examine the injury. Greg stops breathing.

“It will heal nicely, minimal scarring.” 

Mycroft’s face is so close to his, and Greg can feel Mycroft’s breath on his lips. Mycroft’s soft dove grey eyes meet his, and Greg’s heart lurches madly. Greg can see the uncertainty and longing in them. Another crack in the impenetrable exterior of Mycroft Holmes. I did that, Greg thinks, pleased at the thought of being the only one able to dip their fingers below the icy surface. 

Greg wet’s his bottom lip, and Mycroft’s thumb slowly follows the same path as Greg’s tongue. The simple stroke leaves Greg’s mouth tingling. Greg swallows hard and asks, **“Can I kiss you?”** His voice comes out low and husky. 

Mycroft’s brows quirk up in surprise, and he examines Greg’s upturned face, the beginnings of a smile tips the corners of Mycroft’s mouth. “Only if you take your medication,” Mycroft teases. 

Greg barks out a surprised laugh, “yes, mother-“

And then Mycroft's lips are on his, and Mycroft's warm hand is holding Greg’s jaw gently. The kiss is slow and thoughtful. Mycroft’s tongue traces the soft fullness of Greg’s lips, and Greg melts. He pushes forward, eager to deepen the kiss when the sound of footsteps stop outside the door, and Mycroft’s lips are abruptly leaving his, his hand snatching away as if burned. _No dammit_ \- wait- and before he can blink, the Doctor is walking in, and Mycroft is standing motionless at Greg's side.

“Ah, Mr. Lestrade, how are you feeling? Ready to go home, I take it?” The Doctor asks politely as she looks over his chart. 

Greg can feel the heat on his face, and he just nods, not trusting himself to speak. 

“Well, everything looks good. I’m just going to check your vitals one last time, and you’re free to go home with your husband.” She gives a small knowing smile towards Mycroft before looking away. Greg observes, mortified as different emotions flicker across Mycroft’s face like a broken projector before the familiar mask of Agent Holmes descends once again. 

“I... I have to make a phone call. Please excuse me.” Mycroft says stiffly, voice monotone, and gives a short, tense nod before marching out of the room. Greg watches helplessly as Mycroft Holmes runs away… again.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm on [Tumblr ](https://thesilverapplesofthemoon.tumblr.com) :)


End file.
